


Hell's Angels

by Darke_Eco_Freak



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Coming Untouched, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Motorcyles, Post-DMC 5, Praise Kink, V's back and better than ever baby!, down and dirty in a alley, ft Art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darke_Eco_Freak/pseuds/Darke_Eco_Freak
Summary: When your dad and uncle leave you behind on the Epic Hell Adventures, there's nothing to do but get a nice leather jacket, fix up a old motorcycle, and fuck the dude you thought was dead.
Relationships: Nero/V (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	Hell's Angels

Dante and Vergil fuck off to Hell, leaving the world to him, and Nero is…kinda fuckin' pissed about that shit. His _father_ raises a demon tree, levels a city, then bounces with his _uncle_ ‘cause why not? Nero’s got it handled. He’s strong, and Dante’s more than happy leaving the clusterfuck to him. 

...and Lady, and Trish, and whoever else. The first month after, Nero’s kinda touched. He reads the book Vergil left him and he gets used to sorta having an arm again. Lots easier to take down demons now and the wings’re useful. 

For a month, Nero’s pretty okay. Him and Nico head back home to Kyrie and the kids and they all go back to their lives. But Nero’s never been good at the whole settling down thing. It’s why him and Kyrie never worked out, not the way she wanted.

Kyrie needs the white picket fence and house in a nice neighbourhood, which Nero’d given her, but he couldn’t stay there. Her dream life was too normal, or maybe his was too strange. She understood either way and didn’t hold it against him.

The anger creeps in like an itch the same time the need does; to get back on the road, spill some blood, _fight_ . He’s used to _that,_ but the anger is new. The...the fucking _resentment_ every time he sees the DMC logo, knowing what family he’s _from._

Vergil and Dante’re down in Hell, doing the _meaningful_ shit, and he’s stuck up top why? ‘Cause they didn’t think he was good enough that he’d just be deadweight? 

“Fuck em,” Nero snarls, somewhere five hours out from Fortuna, while Nico’s doing a cool one thirty down an empty highway. 

“Fathers, who fucking needs em?” she cackles like the hyena she is. Head tossed back, one hand on the wheel, and the other one reaching over for a fistbump. She’s gorgeous like that, real pretty, and Nero can see what Kyrie does, just for a split second.

A life and legacy of his own? Yeah, okay. 

He stops working under the DMC name, gives Nico the van wholesale, and gets himself a bike. Half-rusted thing with a good frame that looks better paired with demon leather.

By the time the bike’s distance ready, Nico’s calling him “ _A real_ _Redlight Rider_ ” which is stupid as all fuck but always makes Kyrie laugh. Six months later though, when he’s making solo trips on the bike, he almost feels like he’s made something of himself. 

No Dante, Vergil, or DMC. He’s just Nero on the road with his bike and he’s doing damn good for himself. Six months in and it’s nice, so of course _something’s_ gotta shit the bed.

Something’s a call from an unlisted number, not a client or Dante ‘cause that’d be too simple. Nah, Nero gets a call from somebody he thought was dead, typical. 

“Nero, it’s been a while,” smooth and rich. A voice drifting to him through a dream, cutting through a coma...

“ _V_.”

The ride’s...he doesn’t remember the ride, but it ain’t important because V’s _back_ . He’s back and Nero _missed_ him. They didn’t even know each other, and wasn’t V just Vergil? But V was fun and _nice_ and Nero missed him. 

...how’s he back though? _That’s_ the question Nero should remember and have ready when he pulls up in front DMC. Nero should park his old lady, responsibly, and stomp over to V with all the anger and resentment that comes so easy.

He should—he uh—he should do something other than stop dead with his jaw hanging, right?

More than um stare at V, who looks just the same, except more…better? Healthy like he got a good night’s sleep for once. Better like he finally figured out how to wear his skin, and fuck, _what_ a skin. 

Uh shit _no_ , what an outfit. Yeah outfit, ditched the duster for a fucking crop top? Or did he turn the trench into pants that fit way too tight? Fuck those pants’re hot and damn does V wear ‘em well. 

“Nero?” snaps him outta leering and back to V. V who’s here and Nero’s just staring. Why the hell’s he just staring?!

“V!” and he’ll apologise to his old lady later, give a shit about everything else _after_. 

Right that second, all Nero can do is fling himself off his bike and right at V. Something he realises he shouldn’t do about three seconds too late when they’re stumbling, scrambling, and going down anyway. 

At least V’s laughing as they go, all breathless without a wheeze, while Nero hollers-yells-whoops and lands on his knees. They clutch at each other until they’re hugging, fingers catching in leather, arms squeezing tight. Tight enough to hurt but Nero doesn’t _care_. 

He’s too busy getting half-drunk off relief ‘cause V’s heartbeat is under his ear, hammering strong without a stutter. V’s here and he’s healthy, V’s here and Nero never thought he’d ever get a chance like this. To just hug him and hold him and _exist_ without the world falling down around their ears. 

They could get up but they stay on the ground instead, get comfortable leaning against each other under the DMC sign instead. Where everything’s blue, except V’s green eyes, and everything’s neon sharp, except V’s soft smile. The one that’s all for Nero.

V tells him all the how’s and why’s. Dante and Vergil are still in hell, Vergil made him the same way Mundus made Trish, and he rode back here on Dante’s borrowed devil bike.

“I took it actually,” V says with a smile so sly, Nero nearly chokes on a snort. Of course he did, V _would_ right? 

‘Cause he’s V, still V even if he’s part of Vergil, he’s the best part as far as Nero’s concerned. His fool of a _father_ destroyed a town for a fruit but V was the one fighting by himself for a whole month trying to fix it. _V_ was the one Nero’d found dying in the Qliphoth’s guts and actually asked for _help_ when he _needed_ it.

Vergil would never. They’ve barely talked, but Nero **_knows_ ** Vergil would never. V would though, V _has_ , and that’s enough for Nero to like him so much more.

“Why’d you come here?” Nero asks after all the important shit’s outta the way. He’s playing with V’s fingers now, longer than his and softer with the tattoos standing out all hard black. They’re nice hands.

“Nowhere else to go,” V answers simply, “and I don’t know how to get to Fortuna by land.” 

Nero rolls his eyes then his neck and sighs. They should probably move, get something to eat. And Nero should stop staring at the sweep of hair brushing V’s cheek. It looks purple under the neon and he wants to touch, just to _feel_. 

V looks better but _is_ he better? Nero can still remember paper-thin skin crumbling under his fingers. If he reaches out and cups those cheeks, will they ash away?

Oh but those lips look better, full and chirked up at the corners, always smirking. V’s saying something again and Nero should listen, but he can’t bother. V’s here but for how long? He could disappear in a puff of dust, and what’d Nero have to show for it?

He...he wants to blame stupid demon instincts but no, they don’t work like that. Nero’s always in control, his demon’s just him. If he wants something, it’s ‘cause **_he_ **wants it. And right now, he really wants to kiss V.

Has wanted to for...a while if he’s being honest, even after he found out about Vergil-V-Urizen and the ole Sparda legacy. V was nice and he was different, didn’t treat Nero like a freak or some punk...he shouldn’t, really shouldn’t, but he’s always had shit self-control.

And God is it easy to just tip his face and catch V mid-word, easier to brush black hair away, cup a cheek and _kiss_ him. Taste those lips that always drip with the prettiest words, taste the smoke and silver that’s so **_V_**.

A hand slides into his hair, fingers twisting, and Nero expects a yank. Get jerked off and snarled at, stabbed. But no, nah, V holds him tighter. Holds him right there while he licks into Nero’s mouth with a tongue that’s too cool and a purr that’s fucking _filthy_. 

They don’t—it’s not _frantic_ , not pawing at each other like horny kids, but it’s intense. V takes what he wants, kisses hard and bites harder, until Nero’s bleeding between them and shit if that ain’t nice. The pain-prick blood-slick melts into a warmth growling low in his stomach and is so-so good.

Good like he’s never had, purring low and subtle, just perfect under his breastbone. It’s the easy pain and the irresistible force and it’s V- _V-_ **_V_.**Nero doesn’t _have_ to be gentle, so he doesn’t try. 

He manhandles V so easy, barely any effort to get him pinned against the wall and himself hoisted up on his knees. A new angle to dive back into a kiss that’s desperate like a last meal on death row and sweeter than sin in his mouth.

How long do they neck against the wall? Nero’s got no clue and gives no shits. When V pulls away Nero nips his way down that elegant neck. When V arches into him, Nero grinds against a hard cock. They’re both hard, impossible not to be, but V’s pants show it better, and Nero’s are starting to chafe. 

He’d really like to take this someplace private, or at least somewhere else. Not that he cares what Dante’s neighbours think, but he doesn’t want anybody else to see V the way he wants him. Nobody else _deserves_ it. 

“We should relocate,” V purrs and pushes him away with a steady hand on his chest. Nothing Nero couldn’t resist, but why would he? 

V’s leaning back with a oil slick smile and a teasing lick that doesn’t even catch all the bloody drips. Nero’d be happy to help him with that but no, gotta keep the camera rolling. 

There’s a alley across the street that doesn’t smell like sewage, so Nero figures that’ll do. He jumps up and sticks out a hand, taking all of V’s weight when his help’s accepted, and not missing the chance to get another eyeful of V’s new get-up. The leather’s good quality, and the jacket is a nice touch, different from his, but it _works_. 

Shows off all the goods; contracttoos swirling-whirling down his chest, peaking at his wrists, perfect to lick. A lil guide for him to follow with his tongue up-up or down where sharp hips and a low waistband dip’re pulling his eyes. Mmm, maybe later.

Fuck though, he’s barely got V here, but he’s already thinking about _later_. Thinking about more kisses that taste like silver and all the sounds V could make for him. ‘Cause those lil growling moans are nice, but Nero knows he could be nicer. 

V’s got a pretty mouth after all, and pretty words, and a pretty tongue licking the words right out of _Nero’s_ throat. Eh, they ain’t important anyway. Not like V’s bare skin under his hands, lean stomach and poking bones, warm throat bobbing against his palm.

Not like the soft swell of a cock grinding on his thigh, or the lazy fingers stroking his hair. Oh that’s nice, and Nero’s not sure what kinda noise he makes, probably a growl...a purr? Whatever it is, he can’t help making it again, a buzzing rumble in his chest while V fucking pets him and throat fucks him and _fuck_.

“Good boy Nero,” V breathes, “so eager to please.”

In the alley there’s nobody to see, not even V, but Nero can’t help ducking his blush hot face. Can’t help the pleased smile that worms its way across his lips, or the thrill _‘good boy’_ sends through him. It’s _nice_.

“Care to make me feel good too?” V hums, teasing sure, but Nero doesn’t hesitate. He gets them turned around, V to the wall, hand sliding into those tight pants. 

Nero wants to think about it, get all up in his head, but he can’t really focus on anything. Just the scent of silver and smoke ( _V_ ) and the slick slide of devil contracts against his stomach ( _V_ ) and the wet mess already waiting for him ( **_V_ **). Somebody growls when he gets his hand wrapped around V’s cock, and grunts when he thumbs the head, and sighs all shuddery-high on that first stroke.

Is it him? No idea. Does it matter? Fuck no. 

Nero doesn’t let himself think, he just does what feels so-so good. Make V feel good. 

Nero strokes slow-steady, presses V into the wall with all his weight. Heavy and real. So he can feel a pounding heartbeat right under his. Buries his face in silver-black hair and breathes deep, to ground himself in this here and now. And satisfy the demon that’s roaring for him to scent mark his territory.

Nero does that, even though V ain’t his fucking _property_ and he ain’t a _dog_ , There’s a time and place for pride, and jacking off a guy in a alley at midnight ain’t it. Who needs pride when there’s a gorgeous boy grinding against you anyway? 

Who can even think when their eyes are rolling back and their hand’s on a nice cock? Maybe somebody, not Nero, definitely not him. He’s too busy huffing against V’s nape and keeping his rhythm steady while he rocks his cock against something hot. 

Hard to do when V hisses his name and whispers “ _Good boy_ ” over-over again. So fucking hard to keep his hand moving when V gets a fistful of his hair and pulls sweet-sharp. His rhythm starts to falter but V doesn’t care, he moans and ruts and grabs Nero’s wrist vice tight when he cums.

The rutting doesn’t stop, they’re both riding it out, but Nero’s knees are shaky. And when V growls his name, possessive as all fuck, he’s gotta dig claws in the wall to stay standing. Although his demon wants him purring on the ground, belly exposed. 

Fuck, they should probably talk about that--this, but later. They’ve got a later, and Nero grins; they’ve got a whole life of later. 

“Perhaps it would’ve been better to break into the office,” V mumbles-laughs and Nero groans through his smile.

“And miss out on the ambiance?” he snorts, nosing at soft silver-black hair.

“Next time,” V suggests, voice full of genuine devil may care guile and Nero can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, next time.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A joint contribution between me and [Ariebearz](https://twitter.com/ariebearz) for the Spardacest Zine which is available til the end of the year. Feel free to search em up on twitt or tumblr


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